


Sunrise gave birth to our love

by KiyoshiTanaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiyoshiTanaka/pseuds/KiyoshiTanaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg isn't stupid.  It's just convenient for everyone to think he is.  But that makes it difficult to get close to the boy with messy hair and bright eyes.  Thankfully, Luna sees what she sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story because I have an inexplicable fondness for Greg/Harry, and there are only 15 Greg/Harry stories on this entire site. And no matter where I look, there isn’t a ship name for them. I don’t create ship names, so please, if you have an idea, I’d love to hear it. I’d also love for other people to start writing Greg/Harry. If you write one, send me the link and I’ll be sure to read it.
> 
> This story has neither a beta nor a Britpicker, so all mistakes are mine, and I apologize. I'm perfectly aware that this isn't my best work, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> As I'm sure you all know, I am not J.K. Rowling. She owns these lovely characters and I just play with them because... well, because I can.
> 
> The title is a quote by Kristian Goldmund Aumann.
> 
> \--KT

Everyone thinks Greg is stupid. He’s fairly sure it’s because he’s so physically similar to Vince, and Vince really _is_ that stupid. No one believes him when he insists that he isn’t stupid, and by the time he’s five, he’s realized it’s an _advantage_. When adults discuss things they don’t want the children knowing, they make sure Pansy, Blaise, and Draco are out of the room. Vince and Greg they leave be. It’s more effort than it’s worth, getting the two fat kids out of the room, especially since they’re not any more intelligent than the furniture.

Draco and the others use this to their advantage, of course. Greg and Vince become their eyes and ears in the adults’ world. Greg and Vince are supposed to listen in on the adults’ conversations and report back to the others. Greg keeps some of what he hears to himself, meaning he always has the upper hand. He never actually uses any of the information, but it’s there, and he knows he has it. That’s what’s important.

When he thinks about it, he knows he _always_ has the upper hand. No one else knows he’s as intelligent as he is. One day, it’s going to make a world of difference. He just has to bide his time.

Patience is the other thing Greg has in spades. While he may not be the most patient person in the world, it’s quite possible he’s the most patient six year old in the world. Because he knows. He knows that intelligence is a better weapon than any other. And if people think you’re too stupid to understand, they talk.


	2. First Year

Greg is on the train the first time he sees the boy with the black hair and green eyes. Draco makes himself—and by extension, Greg and Vince—look like an arse, and it backfires. It’s actually rather brilliant, if anyone were to ask Greg, seeing Draco not given what he wants for the first time in his life.

He retaliates, and Greg ends up getting his finger bitten by a stupid rat, in order to keep up his guise of faithful lackey. But the boy with the messy hair and bright eyes. Harry Potter.

Greg isn’t expected to say anything in response to Draco’s rant about ‘that stupid Harry Potter.’ He just needs to grunt occasionally as though he agrees. He’s able to sit on the train across from Draco and idly think about what Harry Potter might be like. Aside from standing up to Draco, what’s the boy like? He’s skinny, not at all like Greg, but that’s okay. People are different.

Greg’s heard all about him, of course. But the last anyone heard of Harry Potter, he was just a baby. No one knew where he went after that, so no one knows what Harry Potter is actually _like_. Greg wants to find out. Maybe he’ll get a chance. No one knows what House they’ll be Sorted into; maybe he and Harry Potter will be in the same House.

The Sorting Hat is interested in him. _Not many eleven year olds think in the long term as you do_ , the Hat muses in his ear. Greg isn’t quite sure what that means, so he keeps silent. _And you’ve been doing it for years. Cunning, very, very cunning._ “ _SLYTHERIN_!”

Greg walks over to sit next to Vince and waits for Draco to—predictably—be Sorted into Slytherin as well. Then he waits, hoping. Even if it would cause problems with Draco, he hopes that Harry Potter will be in Slytherin as well.

It takes forever for Professor McGonagall to get to Harry Potter’s name. When she finally does, the Hat sits on Harry Potter’s head for a long, _long_ time before finally shouting—“ _GRYFFINDOR_!”

Greg is disappointed, but not overly surprised. It takes guts to stand up to Draco, and Harry Potter did it without blinking. Insulted him, even.

Besides, there’s no _rule_ against having friends in other Houses. He can still befriend and get to know Harry Potter, it’ll just be a bit more difficult, especially with Draco around all the time.

As it turns out, there might as well be a rule against having friends in other Houses. It’s rare for people to spend a lot of time with someone outside of their own House, except a few of the older students, and Greg suspects that most of those aren’t just _friends_. They tend to act more like Greg’s sister and her fiancé.

It makes it nearly impossible to make friends with Harry Potter, particularly since he has to bully the boy to keep Draco—and therefore the rest of Slytherin—to know that his opinions differ from everyone else’s.

At the end of the year, when it’s time for exams, Draco ‘helps’ him. Really, he’s only helping Vince; Greg more than understands all the material they’ve gone over. Some of it he understands better than Draco. So he pretends to listen as Draco explains, then passes all his exams without any trouble.

Really, Draco isn’t a terrible friend, like a lot of people think. He spent a lot of time and effort making sure Greg and Vince passed their classes. And while Greg didn’t need the help, if Draco was able to help someone as dull as Vince pass, it said something about the effort he put in.


	3. Second Year

Bullying Harry is easier this year. Part of it is that it’s becoming habit. The other part is that Harry cast some sort of spell on him at the beginning of the year, Greg is sure of it. Every time he sees the other boy, he gets a fluttery feeling in his gut. It’s unpleasant and no matter what books Greg looks at, he can’t figure out what spell it is.

Then he learns that Harry is a Parselmouth. It’s surprising, but it’s also really cool. Something they have in common. Not many people can talk to snakes. Greg realized he understood snakes when he was just three years old; everyone assumed he was just pretending to understand the snakes, not that he actually _could_. It’s such a rare talent, why would stupid little Gregory be the one to get it, when Pansy and Draco didn’t?

But Harry has that ability too. Just evidence that Harry should have been in Slytherin with Greg. Of course, then he’d have to see Harry and get that sick fluttery feeling a lot more often, so maybe Harry being a Gryffindor is for the best.

Then one day, during the Christmas Holiday, he and Vince stay after Draco to continue eating. It’s the one way in which he and Vince are actually alike; they both do truly love food. The difference ends there, since Greg makes an effort to eat healthy. He has some vegetables every day, at least. And he does sit ups every day. A lot of them. Vince just eats.

When they leave, they find two cakes floating in midair. Vince is enthusiastic about it, but Greg is suspicious. Even in a magical castle, things don’t just _float_ without a reason. And with all this stuff going on with Petrified students and the Heir of Slytherin, it’s that much more suspicious. So he stuffs the cake in his mouth, but he makes sure not to swallow.

Whatever potion is filling the cakes tastes incredibly familiar. Vince drops to the floor next to him and Greg is able to identify it: a sleeping draught. So he collapses as well, careful not to choke.

To his astonishment, Weasley and Harry come out and drag them away, stuffing them in a broom closet. They steal their shoes and lock them in. Greg spits out the cake and gets out of the closet easily enough, leaving Vince where he is. A sleeping draught won’t kill him, and Greg needs to figure out what Harry is up to.

He follows them to the bathroom—the _girls_ ’ bathroom—Daphne, Tracey, and even Millicent refuse to use because of some ghost haunting a toilet. He almost goes in, then decides against it. He hides in a nook a short distance away and waits for them to come back out.

He has to look twice when they appear, since he isn’t looking at Harry and Weasley, but at Vince and himself. Whatever they’re up to, this is not Gryffindor behavior; whatever their scheme is intended to do, it’s completely Slytherin in nature, and Greg isn’t sure how he feels about that. What does it mean, that Gryffindors can act like Slytherins without a problem?

He follows them, and they meet Draco outside the Slytherin dormitories and go into the Slytherin common room with him. About forty five minutes, they reemerge, faces shifting back to their own, robes and shoes far too large. They drop the shoes by the broom closet Vince is stuck in, and then they’re gone.

Greg doesn’t like it. He’s supposed to be the one who knows everything.

Of course, they don’t know that he knows they know something.

He wonders if they think the same thing he does, that Draco knows who the Heir of Slytherin is. Draco isn’t the Heir himself; he would have bragged about it before, and he isn’t nearly as subtle as whoever’s doing this is. Greg is sure Draco’s father would have told Draco though. Lucius Malfoy has begun trusting Draco with a lot of information, now that Draco’s at Hogwarts. Of course, none of it is quite as sensitive as the identity of the Heir of Slytherin, but it would be like Draco—like any Slytherin, actually—to keep the information close to his chest, for use when it suited him best.

He never manages to figure out what Harry and Weasley were after, and it irritates him to no end, only making it easier to bully them. As though habit and the fluttery feeling weren’t enough.


	4. Third Year

No one ever escapes from Azkaban. No one. Ever. So for someone to do it _just_ to kill Potter… Greg worries. Sure, he doesn’t _like_ Potter, but he doesn’t think Potter deserves to die. Draco thinks it’s brilliant, of course.

Greg doesn’t spend as much time tormenting Harry as he did last year. He has Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures added to his workload. Care isn’t very difficult, especially since Hagrid doesn’t assign much homework.

Of course, Draco does get attacked by that beast. Greg doesn’t know what to think about that. On one hand, Hagrid _did_ warn them not to be rude, a warning Draco willfully ignored. On the other, Greg knows they’re not supposed to learn about Hippogriffs until fifth year.

Hearing Draco play up the injury and milk it does get old quickly. Tiring enough that, several times, Greg is tempted to punch him, just to get him to shut up.

Arithmancy, on the other hand, is _hard_. Greg enjoys it. Greg is the best in the class. Better than Granger, even, not that anyone notices. No one ever notices Greg, even when he does well. Sometimes it’s depressing, but he’s accepted it. No one sees him as he is. Someday they will, though, and Greg will make sure they all know he’s always been this intelligent. That they all know how smart he actually is. And they’ll regret assuming he’s as stupid as Vince.

Greg doesn’t like Granger, but he does admire her. After all, she’s taking _all_ the available classes. No one else is taking more than three elective classes, and only Draco and a few Ravenclaws are taking more than two. He actually likes her a little bit, the day she punches Draco. It’s pleasant to see.

It’s also incredibly amusing to see Draco’s reaction when the Hippogriff escapes, although that gets boring almost as quickly as his whining about his arm.


	5. Fourth Year

Greg knows Potter didn’t put his name in the Goblet. When his name comes out of the Goblet, Potter looks completely spell-shocked. No one could fake that kind of surprise, not even Draco’s father.

And Greg worries. He doesn’t know why he’s worried about Potter, of all people, but he is.

He figures it out when the Yule Ball arrives, even though he wishes he hadn’t.

Draco asks Pansy, which surprises no one, Blaise and Tracey go together, which no one notices, and Theo asks _Millicent_ , which shocks everyone.

Greg is going to ask Millicent, but Theo beats him to it, since he dithers too long. Which is because, when Draco asks who he’ll ask to the Ball, Greg’s first thought is Potter. Which doesn’t make sense. Why would he want to ask another boy to the Ball?

Unless he likes boys.

Unless he likes _Potter_.

He already knows he doesn’t like girls. Draco’s brought enough girlie magazines into the dorms that he’s figured that out quite thoroughly. He just figured that he’s a late bloomer or that he doesn’t like girls. Vince clearly doesn’t like girls. Would it really be that strange, for Greg to not like girls either, since Vince is a product of Greg’s father’s infidelity? Does he actually like boys?

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he knows it’s the truth. He likes boys and he likes Potter. Likes Potter a lot. Wants to kiss Potter. Wants to do other things with Potter.

He’s not completely sure what those other things might be. The other boys have described—in detail—what you do with a girl. But what would Greg do with another boy? Boys and girls don’t have the same bits; you can’t have sex with a boy the same way you have sex with a girl. Greg knows there must be some way to have sex with another boy; he’s heard his father and mother talk about it, always with a derision that made him uncomfortable. Maybe this is why. Because when they criticize the men who have sex with other men, they’re talking about people like Greg.

Maybe they just touch each other. Greg likes touching himself, furtively, beneath the blankets, when all the other boys are asleep. It stands to reason that having someone else touch him like that would feel just as good, right? He’s just not sure if wanking someone else counts as sex.

But at least it explains why he’s worried about Potter.

He still wears the _Potter Stinks_ badges. Draco’s his friend and spent a lot of time on them, after all. Besides, the only way to get out of it would be admitting he likes Potter, which would mean admitting he likes boys. And that’s something Greg absolutely cannot do.

The day Moody turns Draco into a ferret is one of the best days of Greg’s life, and a moment he will never forget.


	6. Fifth Year

The Dark Lord is back. It creeps into Greg’s life silently. His father begins disappearing at night. It’s only a couple times a month at first, but soon it’s two or three times a week. The Death Eater mask that has been hidden in the cellar for as long as Greg can remember makes a reappearance.

His parents laugh at the articles the newspaper runs, the ones that call Potter crazy and an attention-seeker. Draco does too, finding it endlessly amusing that no one believes Potter, in spite of the fact that Potter is telling the truth.

It hurts Greg’s heart, especially when he sees that Potter’s been arrested for performing underage magic. He knows Potter, better than anyone, save perhaps Granger and Weasley. Potter wouldn’t use magic outside of school unless it was _necessary_. And he looks it up; they’re allowed to use magic outside of school—even in front of muggles—if it’s necessary to save a life.

When they get back to school, Greg is relieved to see Potter there. He doesn’t know how Potter got off, but he doesn’t particularly care.

Unfortunately, Potter is different this year. He’s angry now. Greg supposes he can’t be blamed for that, all things considered. Unfortunately, it means he almost never smiles anymore, not even for Granger and Weasley.

He doesn’t argue when Draco gets him a position on the Slytherin Quidditch team. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it. His favorite thing about Quidditch has always been watching Potter. Potter on a broom is absolute _beauty_. He’s been watching Potter fly since before he realized he likes Potter.

He helps Draco with the ‘Weasley Is Our King’ song, although he lets Draco take all the credit. He doesn’t have to pretend to dislike Weasley. Weasley and Granger have all of Potter’s attention, and Greg very nearly hates them for it.

Then there’s the Inquisitorial Squad. As always, Greg just does as Draco asks. He doesn’t like Umbridge, particularly considering how she treats Potter. But he’s more concerned with passing his OWLs than with straddling the line between his loyalty to the Slytherins and his feelings for Potter.


	7. Sixth Year

For all everyone thinks he’s stupid—many of the teachers included, Greg knows—Greg passes all of his OWLs. An O in Arithmancy, an E in Care, History, Herbology, and Transfiguration, and As in everything else. He only continues on in Arithmancy, History, Herbology and Transfiguration, but he’s still proud of his marks.

His parents don’t even ask how he did on his OWLs. He doesn’t tell them. He knows they don’t care. His father got a grand total of three OWLs and no NEWTs. His mother did well enough in school, but she always cared more about finding a husband to support her.

On the train back to school, he’s with Draco and the others. Draco is bragging about the task the Dark Lord has set him. Greg doesn’t buy it. His father has been gloating for the last few weeks about how the Dark Lord is angry with Lucius Malfoy, and is punishing him by using Draco. What Draco claims is an honor is actually a punishment. Greg just isn’t sure if Draco knows it’s a punishment and is just putting up a front, or if Draco actually believes it’s an honor.

Draco stays in the compartment after they all leave, although Greg isn’t sure why. He only hopes Draco’s behavior won’t be this weird once term actually _starts_.

Granger notices him in Arithmancy. She gives him an odd look, as though she’s seeing him for the first time, but she doesn’t comment on his presence.

Harry is positively _gorgeous_ this year. He grew taller, a bit broader. He’s starting to look like a man now. Greg redoubles his exercise routine. He doesn’t know _why_ he does it, since Harry is straight—as evidenced by his romance with the Ravenclaw girl last year—but it seems important, to be as attractive as possible.

It’s great, taking only classes he’s interested in, but in the meantime, he’s still following Draco around. Unfortunately, Draco doesn’t let them in on his plans. Greg asks multiple times, but Draco won’t answer. Even Vince argues with Draco about it, when Draco begins making them turn into girls to guard him when he’s working in the Room of Hidden Things.

Greg doesn’t tell either of them that Harry is following them. He might, if Draco would let him in on the secrets, but with Draco keeping things from him, his loyalty is quickly fading. He can’t be unwaveringly loyal to a friend who doesn’t trust him at all. Particularly since he knows Draco is up to something decidedly _not good_. Something that conflicts directly with what Harry aims to do.

And the whole situation where Harry almost kills Draco. Harry looks so sickened the next few days that Greg knows it wasn’t on purpose. He knows Harry. But Draco is still his best friend.

There’s also the _jealousy_ that begins eating at Greg when Harry finally gets with the Weasley girl. Everyone has been waiting for it, Greg knows, but it doesn’t make it any easier to see.

Greg is being pulled in so many different directions, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It only gets worse when Draco lets the Death Eaters into the castle. Greg only narrowly avoids Fenrir Greyback. There’s too much violence here. It isn’t a school; it’s a battlefield. For the first time in his life, Greg is afraid. He knows that things have been set in motion and nothing can be done to stop them.


	8. Seventh Year

Pretending to be an idiot has its first real payoff. The Dark Lord determines that he and Vince are too stupid to deserve the Dark Mark, too stupid to bear his sign. It’s a relief. No matter how disappointed his parents are, Greg doesn’t want to be a Death Eater. He knows too much.

He knows that muggleborns aren’t less than purebloods; Granger is proof of muggleborn abilities and Longbottom and Vince are both evidence of pureblood failings. He knows that Slytherins and Gryffindors really aren’t very different, and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are probably the same too. And he knows that the Dark Lord is going to lose. He doesn’t know _how_ he knows it, but he does. He can only hope that he, Harry, and their friends will come out of it alive.

The school year is terrible. No one really learns anything. The Carrows terrorize the school, and Harry’s group of misfits fight back. Greg catches several of them at it multiple times. He helps by pretending he doesn’t notice. Being thought of as an idiot is an advantage here, too. He can help the Light without anyone realizing he’s doing it.

He kind of thinks Snape might be a spy. The punishments he uses are altogether too… lenient, if he were truly supportive of the Dark Lord. It’s ridiculous, since everyone in the Dark Lord’s circles knows that Snape is the one responsible for Dumbledore’s death. Greg still can’t shake the feeling that Snape’s loyalties aren’t exactly what they seem.

But he doesn’t mention it. Bringing it up would only draw attention to _him_ , something he doesn’t need.

The curses they learn are sickening. Vince enjoys it, but Vince is an idiot. Draco looks even worse than he did last year. Greg thinks he might be learning that the world isn’t as black and white as their parents like to make it seem.

Greg feels nauseous when performing most of the spells they use. Once again, his supposed stupidity is his saving grace. The Carrows assume that’s the reason he can’t perform the spells properly.

The year is hell. Greg would have thought hell would be chaotic, but it isn’t. It’s orderly and disciplined and rigid, with harsh punishments for anyone stepping out of line. It also seems like a lot longer than a year. The only thing that makes the year seem to go a little faster is Potterwatch.

He shouldn’t know about it, but he does. One time, he catches Longbottom, the Weasley bint, and the Lovegood girl doing something they shouldn’t. Longbottom and Weasley run; Lovegood doesn’t. She walks right up to Greg, eyes sparkling. She reaches up and presses her hands to his face. And then she tells him the secrets about the radio show. She turns and leaves after that, and Greg isn’t sure what just happened. Is it really that obvious where his loyalties—such as they are—actually lie?

He listens every night, drapes of his bed closed tight, anti-eavesdropping spells in place. It gives him hope, even though there’s nothing more than just rumors of Harry.

Then Harry, Granger, and Weasley break into Gringotts. _And they get away with it_. No one knows what they were after, but they succeed in getting it and getting away. Greg is relieved. Harry’s alive somewhere. He can still save them.

The year seems to last forever, but it still seems like no time at all before the battle descends on Hogwarts. Greg knows he’s going to have nightmares about the Fiendfyre and the Room of Hidden Things for the rest of his life. Being rescued by Granger and Weasley—at Harry’s request—feels surreal, almost as strange as seeing Harry rescue Draco.

They drop to the ground outside the Room of Hidden Things, and Harry and his friends are off, leaving Draco and Greg shaking. Greg doesn’t know what to think. Vince is dead, but Greg can’t bring himself to mourn. Vince brought everything upon himself. “Come on,” Draco tells him.

“No,” Greg answers, “You go. I don’t want to be a part of that battle.”

Draco gives him an odd look, as though seeing Greg with new eyes, then shrugs. “Fine. I’m going to go find my parents. Good luck.”

Greg knows that something has shifted between them. If they both survive this, things will be different, and Greg doesn’t know if that’s a good thing.

It might be cowardly, but Greg finds a corner to hide in for the rest of the battle. He cries when he hears the Dark Lord’s announcement that Harry is dead.

But a while later, there’s cheering. Celebrating. And not the violent celebration that happens when the Death Eaters are successful. It can mean only one thing. The Dark Lord is dead.

Greg makes his way to the Great Hall. There are so many dead, on both sides.

And Harry. Harry is there, looking exhausted and dirty, but _alive_. Greg doesn’t know how he’s alive, and he doesn’t really care. He considers approaching Harry, then decides he has no business doing such a thing.

Hours later he’s arrested, along with many of the other Slytherins in their year.

Thanks to Harry, they don’t remain in Azkaban long. Harry talks Minister Shacklebolt into a blanket pardon for the children of Death Eaters, since their crimes were pushed upon them by their parents. Those of them who have the Dark Mark are given probation and community service, but none of them have to serve any jail time, not even Draco.

Greg doesn’t have the Mark, so he gets off with nothing. It’s a miracle.


	9. Eighth Year

When Greg is invited back for a chance to retake his seventh year, he almost says no. Except he’s heard that this opportunity is only being given to students like him and Draco and Pansy because Harry insisted they be given the same chance.

So he returns to Hogwarts. The Sorting is somber. Too many students are missing and those that are here have seen too much. The first year class is twice as large this year, since everyone is being made to repeat the previous year.

It’s nearly the end of September when Lovegood approaches Greg. “You look lonely,” she declares, setting her books down next to his on the table he’s using. “I think I’ll study with you.”

Greg doesn’t object. He and Draco don’t talk anymore. It’s too painful. The hole where Vince should be is too large, and Draco knows Greg can think for himself. It changes everything. So Greg really is alone.

It becomes a regular thing. He and Lovegood—“It’s Luna, Gregory dear. This obsession with family names and their importance is what caused all the war nonsense, you see?”—study together nearly every day. They don’t really discuss anything else, until one day about halfway through October.

“I have nightmares,” Luna says without preamble. “Nearly every night.”

“Me too,” Greg replies before he can overthink it. “Mine are always about fire.”

Luna nods, as though she completely understands. “Mine are always about the dark. I can’t sleep without a light on anymore. I think we all have nightmares now. I know Harry does.”

Greg knows too. All the eighth years do. Sometimes Harry’s silencing spells aren’t enough to contain his screams. Greg hates Weasley more than ever, for being the one who gets to comfort Harry. Greg wishes he could be the one to do that.

Especially since he’s the only one who sees Harry anymore. Granger and Weasley are so in love with each other it’s sickening, but as a result, Harry’s become a third wheel. The Weasley girl got together with Longbottom last year. And to everyone else… Harry isn’t _Harry_. He’s Harry Potter, the Savior, the Boy Who Lived. And Greg is the only one who sees how much he hates it.

“He just wants to be seen as himself, not as a celebrity,” Luna says mildly, as though she’s reading Greg’s thoughts. She does that a lot.

“Yeah,” Greg replies. “I know.”

“I thought so.”

* * *

“Luna?” Greg asks another day. “Why’d you give me the information on Potterwatch?”

“You kept letting us go,” Luna answers. “I could tell it was deliberate. You’re much smarter than people realize.”

Greg’s ears heat up. It’s the first time anyone has ever acknowledged that. “What do you mean?”

Luna smiles. “You know. You’re smart. Everyone else just sees what they expect to see. But I don’t expect anything, so I see what I see. And I see a smart guy who wants everyone to think he’s stupid, although I haven’t the slightest idea why.”

“It’s useful,” Greg replies. “It’s like I’m furniture. People talk in front of furniture.”

“Oh,” Luna says brightly. “I get it. How very Slytherin of you, Gregory.”

In the days since the war, only Luna Lovegood can make that kind of statement a compliment. For most people, it’s an insult. Being a Slytherin is a burden these days. It’s oppressive.

After a while, Greg asks, “Do you ever want to just be alone?”

“Of course. There’s a rather marvelous tree on the west side of the lake,” Luna replies. “I sit under it sometimes. I like watching the sun rise over the lake. I’ve never seen anyone else there, either. You can feel free to use it, if you want.”

Greg smiles. “Thanks. I might do that.”

* * *

He does. He begins going out to the tree to watch the sunrise several times a week. Sometimes Luna is there, sometimes she isn’t. Even when she is, they don’t speak.

Then one day, he arrives and it isn’t Luna sitting up against the tree. It’s Harry. He hesitates, unsure of whether he should just sit like he normally would with Luna or if he should walk away. But he really wants to watch the sunrise.

Harry turns and looks at him. Surprise is written all across his face. “Goyle?” he asks, as his face hardens. “Did you want something?”

Greg shakes his head. “No. I just came out to watch the sunrise. I do most mornings.”

Harry stares at him for almost an entire minute, as though trying to find a lie. Eventually he seems to decide Greg is either telling the truth or it isn’t worth it to argue. “Sit down. I just wanted to watch the sunrise too. One of my friends said this was a good place for that.”

“Luna?” Greg asks without thinking.

Harry frowns again. “Yes. How’d you know?”

“She’s my friend too,” Greg replies. “We study together. She told me about this place a few weeks ago. She said it was a good place to be alone.”

Harry smiles softly. “That explains a lot. Luna’s great friend, but sometimes… I bet she didn’t think we’d meet each other out here.”

“Is it such a bad thing we did?” Greg asks.

Harry shakes his head. “No. You just said she told you about this place because it’s a good place to be alone. I assumed that meant you came out here for that reason. To be alone.” He looks out toward the skyline. “It’s part of the reason I come out here.”

“And the other part?” Greg asks, sitting down heavily next to Harry.

“I like the sunrise. It reminds me that life is still going. Part of me is still stuck in the battle, in the forest, in the Room. Watching the sunrise… it’s a reminder that things haven’t stopped. It keeps me going,” Harry explains. “Why do you want to be alone?”

“Everyone assumes things,” Greg replies slowly. “They assume things about me and I’ve let them think those things for years. Being alone gets me away from those pressures. The pressures of the assumptions everyone else makes.”

Harry stares at him as though he’s seeing someone entirely new. It’s a brilliant feeling. “I get it,” Harry says, so quietly Greg can barely hear him. A moment later, he turns away and points at the horizon. He doesn’t actually say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

Once the sun is up, they silently make their way back to the eighth year dorms, side by side. They nod to each other before going into their respective bedrooms to get ready for the day.

* * *

It becomes a daily ritual, one Luna only appears for a couple times before abandoning the tree altogether. “There’s a nargle infestation,” she explains. “I know they don’t bother boys as much as they bother girls, so it’s perfectly okay for you guys to stay there, but I can’t go there anymore. I’ll have to find a different tree.”

But Greg and Harry meet every day. They talk for a few minutes, watch the sun come up, then walk back to their dorm in silence. The camaraderie between them is more than Greg ever hoped for. They’re dangerously close to being _friends_.

Then one day in Herbology, Neville works with a Hufflepuff girl, leaving Harry without a partner. He instantly meets Greg’s eyes, a question in his own. Greg nods and moves to stand next to Harry.

“Greg?” Theo asks. “What are you doing?”

Greg shrugs. “House unity. Thought I might partner with a Gryffindor for a change.”

Theo raises his eyebrows but finds a different partner, the Hufflepuff boy Longbottom’s partner usually works with.

“I have a confession,” Harry says, once they’re elbow-deep in dragon dung.

“And what’s that?”

“I asked Neville to partner with someone else,” Harry replies.

“Why?”

“Neville’s a great friend,” Harry answers, “And he understands what I’m going through, with people wanting signatures and all that. But he doesn’t understand the way you do.”

Greg is pleased, even though he’s not sure what Harry means. “I understand you?”

“Yeah. People expect something and refuse to see anything else. I can never be just Harry. Not even around Ron and Hermione. To them I’m a friend they feel guilty for excluding. To Neville, even though we’re friends, I’m still Ginny’s ex. I’m only _just Harry_ around you and Luna. And Luna can’t relate to me the way you do, since no one really expects anything other than the unexpected from her.”

“Oh,” Greg answers. “I’m glad I can help.”

Harry reaches over and squeezes Greg’s hand. “You’re helping more than you know.”

“You’re my friend,” Greg replies.

Harry’s smile dazzles Greg, and Greg feels himself falling.

* * *

The days begin getting colder, but without actually discussing it, they continue meeting by their tree. On rainy days, they don’t go out, but whoever arrives in the Entrance Hall first waits for the other and they go get breakfast in the kitchens, just the two of them.

Harry is surprisingly friendly with the house elves, two in particular. One is named Kreacher, Greg learns, and he is more than happy to cater to Harry’s every whim. It turns out that he’s actually _Harry’s_ elf, which is strange. Greg has never seen that kind of enjoyment in an elf. Perhaps the master this particular elf has is what makes the difference. The other is called Winky.

“She didn’t used to be like this,” Harry tells him one day. “She used to cry and drink all day. It’s good to see her like this. And don’t even get me started on what Kreacher used to be like.”

* * *

They begin partnering in Herbology every class period and it isn’t long before they begin partnering in Transfiguration as well. People start noticing Greg, but they shrug it off and assume Harry is just doing his ‘helping people thing.’ But he meets Granger’s eyes several times, and he knows that she knows better.

It’s nearing the beginning of December when Granger actually approaches him. He and Harry have been partnering together for about two weeks now, and they’ve been sharing the sunrises for a bit more than a month.

“Goyle,” she says, sitting down next to him in the library. “I wanted to talk to you about the project Vector assigned.”

Greg immediately pulls out his Arithmancy book. “What about it?”

“Is Malfoy helping you with it?”

So the game was up, and Gryffindors were anything but subtle. “No, he’s not. He’s never had to help me with Arithmancy, or any other subject for that matter.”

“So why do you act like you don’t understand?” Granger asks.

Greg shrugs. “I didn’t have to take the Dark Mark because everyone thought it was stupid. Being stupid does have its advantages, even if someone as smart as you can’t see that. And in Slytherin House, the biggest advantage is knowing something other people don’t. I was the only person who knew I wasn’t stupid.”

Granger hesitates. “Does Harry know?”

Greg nods. “He knows. I think it’s why he likes me. Because I’m not what everyone thinks I am. I can relate to him in a way no one else can.”

“You’re not just using him for his fame?”

Greg would be offended, except for the fact that Granger is one of Harry’s best friends. She’s only looking out for him. “When we’re alone, he’s just Harry and I’m just Greg.”

Her brow furrows. “Alone?”

Greg ignores the heat creeping up his neck. “We watch the sun come up, nearly every morning. We’re friends, Granger. I wouldn’t betray him any more than you would.” He knows she won’t believe that, but he’s hardly going to tell her he’s _in love_ with Harry. He has to put something on the line to get through to a Gryffindor, but that would be going too far.

“Okay,” Granger says slowly, “I guess that works.” She looks down at her Arithmancy book and says, “What are you getting in your calculations? Mine aren’t making the slightest bit of sense, and I can’t figure out where I’m going wrong.”

And somehow Greg is studying with Granger, of all people.

* * *

One day, a few days before the end of term, Harry hands Greg a letter.

 

> _Harry,_
> 
> _Of course you can bring a friend home for Christmas! No one should have to stay alone at Christmas. Christmas is a time for family and friends, a time to be with people you love! I’ll plan on having him or her with us. The two of you can share George’s room. I’m sure the other boys will love to have someone else to play Quidditch. I know you all struggle to find enough people to start up the type of match you’d prefer._
> 
> _I’ll see you soon!_
> 
> _I’ll my love,_
> 
> _Molly_

As Greg makes his way through the flowery writing, he’s confused. Harry’s asked to bring a friend home with him? Luna, probably. Greg just doesn’t know why Harry’s sharing this with him.

“Well?” Harry asks. “Will you come?”

Wait. Harry’s friend is _him_? “You want me to have Christmas with your family?”

“Well, you said you were planning to stay here,” Harry replies, easing the letter from Greg’s large hands. “And like Mrs. Weasley said, no one should spend Christmas alone.”

Greg nods before he really thinks it through. “I’d like that.”

* * *

So now he’s panicking. They’re on the train back, and he has no idea what he’s supposed to get for the people who are taking him in. Weasley—Ron, Greg has to think of him as Ron. There’s going to be too many Weasleys there to call him _Weasley_ and assume everyone will know whom he’s talking to. Ron is surly, glaring at him occasionally. He’s asked Harry several times why.

Harry’s answer is the same every time: He’s my friend.

The fourth time Ron asks, Harry gets angry. “You guys always insist I’m family. Well, if I’m family, I have every right to bring a friend home for Christmas. You’re bringing Hermione.”

“She’s my _girlfriend_ ,” Ron argues. “It’s different.”

Something in Harry’s expression falters. “Right. Girlfriend. All the same, he’s my friend.”

That shuts Ron up. Not long later, Harry leans against Greg’s shoulder and goes to sleep. Ron gapes at them. Granger and Ginny have a strange glint in their eyes, as though they know something.

Greg doesn’t care what they think. Harry’s his friend, and that’s all that matters.

* * *

Molly Weasley welcomes him with open arms, barely blinking when she learns his name. She treats him the same as she treats Ron—they’re the only two in the room she doesn’t force extra helpings on. Greg suspects that’s because they both take thirds without being prompted. Greg almost feels uncomfortable at eating so much, but the sheer amount of food on the table tells him it’s expected.

He’s also quizzed to within an inch of his life by the Weasley matriarch, and it feels altogether too much like he imagines meeting a boyfriend’s parents would.

He’s given a bed in a room up several flights of stairs. “Sorry about that,” Harry says.

Greg can’t answer. His mouth has gone dry at the sight of Harry stripping down to his underwear in front of him.

“I know she can be a bit much to handle,” Harry explains, “But she’s the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever had. She means well. Food is her way of showing she cares. And ever since Fred died…”

“Fred was the twin, right?” Greg asks, just to be sure. There are so many Weasleys that it’s sometimes difficult to remember which one’s which.

“Right,” Harry replies, pulling on his pajamas. “Anyway, cooking food and feeding people is how she’s been coping. Besides, you did great. All you have to do to get along with Mrs. Weasley is eat.”

Greg grins, able to speak now that Harry has clothes on. “Eating is one thing I’m good at.”

Harry gives him a crooked grin. “I’m sure there are other things your good at.”

“You’d be the only one who thinks that.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “You’re telling me that Luna and Hermione have begun studying with someone they think isn’t good at anything other than eating?”

Heat creeps up Greg’s neck. Harry has a point. Girls as smart as Luna and Granger wouldn’t study with him unless they knew he was smart too. His façade of being an idiot is falling apart, one person at a time. Greg’s okay with that.

“So what should I get her for Christmas?” Greg asks.

The change of topic clearly surprises Harry. “She won’t expect anything.”

“I know,” Greg answers, “But she didn’t ask any questions, just welcomed me for Christmas. She didn’t even know who I was. I want to get her something.”

Harry shrugs. “We can go to Diagon tomorrow. I still need to find stuff for several people.”

Greg smiles. “I haven’t done any Christmas shopping yet. I wasn’t expecting to have a Christmas to celebrate.”

“Not even your parents? Or Malfoy?”

“My parents are in Azkaban,” Greg replies. “Draco and I don’t exchange gifts. We never have.”

Harry steps forward and squeezes Greg’s shoulder. “We’ll just have to find something for her tomorrow. Maybe we can find something a bit expensive and go in on it together.”

Greg chuckles. “Sounds great.” He knows Harry can more than afford any gift he might want to get Mrs. Weasley, but he likes the idea of giving someone a present _with_ Harry.

* * *

After a lot of debate, Greg talks Harry into getting Mrs. Weasley a necklace. “It’s not the kind of thing she wears,” is Harry’s excuse.

“Harry, the Weasleys don’t have much money,” Greg says bluntly. “Maybe the reason she doesn’t wear anything like this is because they can’t afford it.”

Harry ran his hand over the glass case protecting the necklaces. “You think?”

Greg nods. “Yes.”

“Let’s go for it.”

It takes nearly an hour after that to decide _which_ necklace, but eventually they settle on one that Greg thinks Mrs. Weasley will like. It’s silver, with small diamonds and emeralds. Greg suspects they should have tissues on hand, just in case.

Harry doesn’t even blink at the astronomical price, just pays and says, “You can just give me whatever percent you want.”

Greg nods. He can’t afford nearly half of what the necklace cost, but that’s okay. It’s mostly from Harry anyway, since it’s his mother.

“Well,” Harry says, “I have some shopping I need to do without you.”

Greg blinks. “Why?”

“You can’t very well be there when I pick out _your_ present.” Harry says it as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Greg supposes it might be, since he’s been struggling to figure out when he’s supposed to buy Harry’s present. It would appear that now is a good time.

“Very good point,” he agrees. “Do you know what you’re getting me?”

“Yeah.”

“Half an hour enough?” Greg asks. “Meet at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Perfect,” Harry replies, squeezing Greg’s hand before turning and disappearing into the throngs of people doing their Christmas shopping.

* * *

Christmas Eve arrives and the sheer amount of food is staggering. Greg doesn’t know how Mrs. Weasley manages it all alone. Then again, perhaps _alone_ isn’t the right word. All of them are suckered into helping her do one thing or another (Greg peels the potatoes), so maybe it’s just the fact that no one else does more than a miniscule amount that makes the meal seem so impressive.

Greg eats thirds and even fourths, the food is so good. But when he pushes his plate away after that, Mrs. Weasley stands and hurries toward him. “Greg, dear, do you want more? There’s plenty.” She already has the serving spoon in the nearest dish.

“Mrs. Weasley,” he says, “No. Please. If I eat any more than this, I’ll burst.”

She smiles brightly. Harry got that right, at least; all you had to do to get along with Molly Weasley was _eat_.

They sit around the fire after dinner, drinking alcohol and talking. Suddenly someone—George, Greg thinks—announces, “Well, it’s Hermione’s first Christmas officially part of the family, and Greg’s as well.”

Ron and Harry both turn bright red and groan. Harry looks anywhere but Greg and Grang—Hermione grins in delight. “I’ve been _waiting_ for this!” she says eagerly.

Greg doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, so he leans to Ginny, the closest person to him, and asks, “What’s happening?”

Ginny grins, looking a bit malicious. “Every time someone brings someone home for Christmas, the baby pictures and embarrassing stories come out. It happened with Bill and Fleur, with Charlie and Soren, Percy and Penelope. Now Ron and Hermione, and Harry and you. We don’t have any embarrassing baby pictures of Harry, but I’m sure we can come up with some stories. There is a reason I’m not bringing a guy home for Christmas until I’m engaged. I don’t want him to run away screaming.”

Greg frowns. “I was under the impression that Hermione has been here for Christmas before.”

“Not exactly,” Ginny replies. “She’s never been _here_ for Christmas, but you’re right, she has had Christmas with us. But this is the first Christmas since she and Ron got together.”

Greg doesn’t quite understand why that makes a difference, since they’re planning to tell him stories about Harry, but there are a lot of things he hasn’t quite figured out about the Weasleys. He just hopes Harry will have him around long enough that he’ll have a chance to figure those things out.

So he just sits back, looks at the baby pictures of Ron, listens to the siblings stories about him.

Then George says, “So Harry, remember the first summer you stayed here?”

“Oh god, please no,” Harry groans. “George, do you _have_ to?”

“Of course I do,” George answers. “Fred would demand it.”

That sobers everyone—everyone but George, it seems, who turns to Greg. “So it was August of ’92. Harry here was twelve. Fred and I weren’t _trying_ to corrupt him or anything, but things happen. Well, Mum asked him to wake us up, but we were already awake. We were down in the garden working on something. Well, he walked into our room and tripped over the anti-trespassing trap we’d laid. His hair was green for three days before Mum figured out how to get it out. Matched his eyes quite well.”

“Then there was the time the two of you almost got caught with those girlie magazines,” the dragon-tamer, Charlie, says. “Tossed them in Harry’s lap moments before Mum walked in and looked like you were in the middle of a chess game before Harry could figure out what had happened. Mum looked ready to explode.”

“If it had been any of us, she would have,” Ginny pipes up. “That it was her adoptee meant that she blamed his aunt and uncle.” She laughs and says to Greg, “She took Harry upstairs and he got a thirty minute lecture on how inappropriate girlie magazines are and how they degrade and objectify women. I didn’t think he would ever stop blushing.”

“Or the time…”

It goes on for quite a while, stories that have Greg thinking this might be the time the blush becomes permanent.

It’s close to midnight when they finally break up the party. George, Percy, and Bill and Fleur head home, with promises to be back in time for breakfast. Everyone else heads for their respective rooms, Greg and Harry slipping into George’s old room.

Harry immediately says, “If you ever mention any of those things, I’ll…”

He’s still bright red. Greg asks, “You’ll do what?”

“I don’t know, but you won’t like it!”

* * *

Breakfast is good, although not as elaborate as dinner yesterday. They eat and then Ginny squeals, “Presents!” and all but dives under the tree. The number of presents beneath the tree is mind-boggling. Even at Draco’s house—Draco, whose parents spoiled him rotten—there was never that many presents.

She begins passing out large bulky packages. Greg gets one, as does everyone except Mrs. Weasley. He looks at the tag to find it’s from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He opens it and finds a thick jumper and a tin of homemade fudge. A lump forms in his throat as he runs his fingers across the dark grey yarn, interwoven with occasional strands of dark green. He saw Mrs. Weasley frantically working on this to get it done before Christmas. No one questioned her actions. Greg figured it was a Christmas present; it just never occurred to him that it was a present for _him_.

He looks up to find everyone looking at him expectantly. That’s when he notices that everyone else is already wearing a jumper. Ron’s is a maroon that clashes horribly with his hair, Hermione’s hair is even frizzier than normal from pulling it over his head, and Percy tells him, “Might as well put it on. They’ll Stupify you before they’ll let you get away with not wearing it.”

Greg smiles and pulls it on.

“Oh, good,” Mrs. Weasley says. “It fits. I wasn’t sure. You’re bigger than any of my boys. I had to guess, based on Charlie.”

“It’s perfect,” Greg replies. “Thank you.” It’s the first time he’s felt like he’s part of a real family, which is strange, since it isn’t actually _his_ family. They don’t seem to care.

Mrs. Weasley beams. “You’re welcome.”

Everyone turns back to their presents to try the sweets and Harry leans in close to Greg to whisper, “If you don’t like it, Ron, Percy, Fleur, and Ginny only wear theirs on Christmas. Hermione only wears hers when she’s particularly cold. I don’t know about Charlie and Bill, but I’m pretty sure Mr. Weasley, the twins, and I are the only ones who wear them because we actually like them.”

Greg shakes his head and whispers back, “Add me to that last group. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to find jumpers that fit and are actually comfortable? Mrs. Weasley has a magic touch.”

Harry chuckles and then goes to the tree and begins pass out the gifts that he purchased. Greg watches for a specific one. Sure enough, a small box in blue paper appears, and Harry says, “This one is from me and Greg.”

That gets everyone’s attention and they stop unwrapping their own to watch Mrs. Weasley. When she sees the store name on the box, her hands begin shaking. When she opens the box, she gasps. “Harry, I couldn’t possibly—this must be so—”

“It was a bit expensive,” Harry acknowledges, which Greg feels is probably the understatement of the century, “That’s why Greg and I went in on it together.”

“You boys,” Mrs. Weasley says, hugging Harry tight. George pushes Greg forward and he’s dragged into the tight embrace as well. “I love you both so much.”

“Love you too, Molly,” Harry murmurs.

Greg stays silent. He likes Mrs. Weasley, but he doesn’t _love_ her, although he can see why Harry would.

Mrs. Weasley fastens the necklace around her neck and then the other presents are opened and exclaimed over.

When Ron and Hermione pass out theirs—which are all from both of them, since they’re a couple—Greg is surprised to find that they got him one. It’s an advance Arithmancy book, one Greg’s been wanting for a while but hasn’t been able to buy.

He gets a present from George as well, a large package of WWW products. “Sorry it isn’t more personal,” George says. “Harry didn’t tell anyone who he was bringing home.” He quirks his lips upward. “And you’re a lot different than I thought anyway, so maybe it’s for the best I didn’t get anything more personal.”

Greg is touched that George got him anything at all. “Sorry. I didn’t get you anything.”

George waves it away.

Greg passes out his presents, which are few compared to everyone else’s, especially since Harry’s already given Mrs. Weasley hers.

Mr. Weasley opens the card Greg bought for him and frowns. “What is this?”

“It’s called a gift card,” Greg answers. “Harry can explain it. I don’t really understand it.”

Harry jumps in. “See, that’s the name of the store. It’s a muggle hardware store. Then this here is the amount of money on the card. You can go into the store and when you go to the register, instead of giving them cash, you can give them that card. If what you’re trying to buy is more expensive than the amount on the card, you’ll still have to pay some, but it won’t be as much.”

Mr. Weasley still looks confused, so Greg says, “I didn’t know what you’d want, but Harry told me you like muggle tools and stuff. He went with me to get that so you can pick something out for yourself.”

Mr. Weasley seems to understand that. His eyes light up and he carefully tucks the gift card into the pocket of his robe. “Thank you.”

Greg looks at Ron to find that he’s already opened the box of sweets, and Hermione already has the book of Ancient Runes open on her lap.

He turns and sees that Harry has set his aside. He asks, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Harry smiles. “I want to exchange ours upstairs, just the two of us.” He almost looks as though he’s going to kiss Greg.

Then Ginny makes a gagging noise on the other side of the circle, and the moment passes. Harry blushes again, and there are more presents distributed.

Once all the presents are opened, they clean up the mess and then have lunch, which is really just last night’s leftovers.

It’s the best Christmas Greg has ever had.

And he hasn’t even exchanged gifts with Harry yet.

* * *

That evening, they close the door to their room and Harry hands him a box wrapped in that same shimmery blue paper. “I hope you like it,” Harry says as he pulls Greg’s present for him from his pocket.

“I’m sure I will,” Greg answers. He tears of the paper and opens the thin box. Inside is a mirror.

Harry must understand his confusion, since he says, “I have the other one. If you tap it and say my name, it’ll connect to mind, and we can talk. It doesn’t matter when or where.” He looks a bit sad. “My dad and godfather had a similar pair, but Sirius’s… Sirius had his when he died, and I got angry and destroyed the other.” He plays with the paper on his gift. “I wish I hadn’t. It was one of the few things I had from him.”

Greg acts on instinct and crosses the room to give Harry a hug. Harry hasn’t talked about his family a lot, but when he has, it’s most often been about Sirius Black. Greg still isn’t real clear on what the whole story is, but he knows Harry misses Black and feels guilty about his death for some reason.

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t reject Greg’s hug. He leans into it and wraps his own arms around Greg.

For Greg, it’s bittersweet. He can’t say how long he’s wanted to hold Harry, but the circumstances are less than ideal. On the other hand, he’s the one who gets to comfort Harry this time.

After close to a minute, Harry pulls away. “Best open yours now, eh?”

Greg nods and watches anxiously as Harry carefully peels the paper back. “It’s not much,” he says.

Harry runs his fingers reverently over the leather tome. _Modern Potion-Making for Healers_. “It’s perfect.” When he looks up at Greg, his eyes are shining.

Greg is relieved. He wasn’t sure if Harry would like it, since Harry has never explicitly _said_ he wants to be a Healer. He certainly hasn’t said he wants to be a Potions Master, concentrating on Healing.

Harry leans toward him and for a moment, Greg is sure Harry is going to kiss him. Unfortunately, he shakes his head and leans back. “I don’t know how you just know these things,” Harry murmurs. “I haven’t even told _Hermione_ about this.”

Greg shrugs. “I listen to you. I can tell.”

Harry hugs him again. “Happy Christmas, Greg. I’m happy you came with me.”

“Me too,” Greg replies, wrapping his arms around Harry. It’s been the best Christmas Greg has ever had. His parents were never real big on Christmas. There was always a tree, decorated by Greg, his sister, and their single elf, and there was always a few presents on Christmas morning, but it was never anything like _this_. Never full of food and fun and family and _love_. As much as Greg likes the mirror and the fact that he can contact Harry whenever he wants, being a part of the Weasley Christmas was an even better gift.

* * *

It’s three days later that Harry has the first nightmare he’s had since arriving at the Burrow. Greg hasn’t had any at all. The number lessened when he began watching the sunrises, and even more when Harry began watching them with him. But being away from Hogwarts on top of that seems to have gotten rid of them entirely, at least for a time.

But Harry’s thrashing wakes him at about two in the morning. Greg gets out of bed and lumbers to Harry’s, gently shaking him awake. “Harry,” he says, “Harry, it’s not real.”

Harry’s green eyes open and focus on him. “Greg?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank Merlin. I—fire. You—you didn’t—I couldn’t—”

Greg doesn’t need to hear any more than that. He knows what the dream is. It’s the same one he has, only from the other side. He sits next to Harry and holds him. Harry is shaking. After a while, he settles and seems to fall back to sleep. But when Greg moves to lie him back down, Harry tightens his grip on Greg’s pajamas and says, “Stay. Please. If it’s not too much to ask. Just… just stay.”

Greg doesn’t say anything, just slides beneath the blankets and pulls Harry close. What he wouldn’t give to have this every night, even the good nights

* * *

On New Year’s Eve the Weasleys gather together again, ready for another party. Bill and Fleur announce that Fleur is pregnant and everyone cheers. Once again, Greg really feels as though he’s part of a family.

The listen to the WWN, and soon the announcer says, “And the New Year will begin in 10… 9… 8…”

He keeps counting down and the Weasleys join in. Harry does as well. At midnight, all the couples kiss, and the singles cheer. Except Harry. Harry turns and presses a soft kiss to Greg’s cheek. “Happy New Year,” he whispers.

Greg is too stunned to say anything back, so he just nods.

* * *

The next few days are confusing. Harry is avoiding him, and Greg doesn’t know why. Then it’s time for the term to start up, and there’s no good time to ask Harry what he’s done. He can’t very well ask in a compartment full of other people.

Term starts, and Harry gets even better at avoiding him. They both live in the eighth year dorms, but the Gryffindor boys have a different room than the Slytherin boys, so Greg can’t corner him in their dorm. Harry begins partnering with Neville in Herbology again and with Dean Thomas in Transfiguration.

Harry stops coming to their tree to watch the sunrise.

Greg can’t figure out what he’s done, and not having Harry and their conversations by the lake gives his nightmares an opportunity to come back.

* * *

“You don’t look well, Gregory,” Luna says one day at the end of January. “Have the Purple-Crested Grapplers got you?”

Greg’s long since given up asking about Luna’s magical creatures. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Luna hums. “Just talk to him.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” Greg replies. “How can I sort something out if I don’t know what I did in the first place?”

Luna smiles. “You didn’t do anything.”

“How do you know?”

“Harry can be a bit thick sometimes, that’s all,” Luna replies. “If you talk to him, I’m sure it’ll solve the problem.”

“I can’t get him alone,” Greg complains.

“Oh. Go to the tree to watch the sunset.”

“Okay…”

Luna nods and looks at the clock. “Oh dear. I’m late for Transfiguration.”

* * *

At sunset, Gregory goes to the tree and finds Harry. Harry’s green eyes go wide. “Sorry,” Harry immediately says. “Luna said she’d meet me. I didn’t realize you were going to be here, or I would have told her—”

“Harry, we need to talk,” Greg interrupts.

Harry sighs and sits, gesturing next to him. Greg sits and before he can say anything, Harry begins babbling. “I know I screwed everything up with that kiss. It’s just that I’m gay, and I got the impression that you were too, and I wanted to kiss you. But I didn’t know if you liked me back, so I decided to kiss your cheek, just in case, but you’re reaction told me everything I needed to know. I’ve stayed away so you don’t have to explain why we can’t be friends anymore, since I know it’s my fault. Ginny’s always accusing me of being terrible at telling who’s gay and who isn’t, so the fact that I thought you’re gay is probably just wishful thinking, not that you _look_ gay, so you don’t have to worry. Just so you—”

Greg found his inner Gryffindor and kissed Harry, to put the poor man out of his misery. And to get him to shut up. There was also probably a bit of selfish just-wants-to-kiss-him in there too.

Harry tenses, but when Greg’s lips continue moving against his, he relaxes and begins kissing back. Greg pulls him closer, even as he pulls out of the kiss. “Harry,” he says, “You didn’t screw up. I reacted the way I did because I was _surprised_. I didn’t think you were gay, didn’t let myself hope for it. Having you kiss me—even on the cheek—made so many things possible, things I thought were just stupid fantasies.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes. “Oh. Really? You’re not just… saying this to make me feel better?”

Greg might find it offensive, that Harry thinks he might lie like that, if it weren’t endearing how positively insecure Harry is in this moment. The man defeated the darkest wizard in memory, and he’s worried someone might not _like_ him. “I’ve liked you since we were eleven.”

Harry blinks. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh.” Harry looks at Greg for a long moment. Then he says, “Can we snog some more? I’ve been wanting to since I first realized you’re not stupid like you pretend to be.”

Greg just pulls Harry into his lap, wraps his hand around Harry’s neck, and does his best to kiss Harry until the man can’t see straight. He isn’t sure if it has that effect on Harry, but since it works that way on him, he counts it as a success.

They pull apart when Greg’s stomach growls and they realize the sun has gone down while they were busy making out.

Harry smiles at him in the dark. “Sunrises and sunsets?” he asks.

Greg nods. “Brilliant idea.”

* * *

They begin eating all their meals together. They get breakfast in the kitchens before dawn and eat it by the lake, cuddled together to ward off the cold that leaks through their warming charms. They eat lunch at the Slytherin table and dinner at the Gryffindor table.

People notice, but when they’re asked, Greg pretends to be stupid and just grunts. Harry tells them to fuck off.

By unspoken agreement, they don’t engage in PDA. Greg wants to keep what they have private, and even the slightest hint of romance between them would leak back to the _Prophet_.

There’s a glint in Luna’s, Hermione’s, and Ginny’s eyes that says they know, and Draco comes up to Greg at one point and says, “Congratulations, Greg. I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve it. And… you’re a better friend than I deserve.” Greg will never forget the squeak Draco lets out when Greg hugs him.

But they keep it a secret, and it’s beautiful.

* * *

Two weeks after that first kiss, the castle is preparing for Valentine’s Day, and Harry is on edge. “I’m terrified,” he tells Greg. “I’m afraid someone will sneak something into my food. No one’s been successful so far, but tomorrow they’ll likely redouble their efforts.”

Ron hears, stands up and shouts, “Attention!” The Great Hall falls silent, leaving Ron able to say, “Starting tomorrow, Goyle is going to taste-test all of Harry’s food. So if you have any ideas about sneaking love potions into Harry’s food, think about _that_.”

There’s murmuring among everyone else, until McGonagall stands. “Speaking of love spells and potions, I would like to inform you that anyone found in possession of such a potion or discovered casting such a spell will be subject to anything from detention to expulsion, depending on the strength of the magic.” A stern look passes over everyone. “And this applies to love potions given to people other than Mr. Potter.”

Greg reaches beneath the table and squeezes Harry’s hand. “There you go.”

“Now we just have to hope no one tries _poisoning_ my food in order to kill you,” Harry mutters.

“Please,” Greg scoffs. “No one has attempted to kill any of the Slytherins this year. They’re not going to try to kill me with your food, especially since it risks your life as well.” When Harry still looks skeptical, Greg says, “If it’ll make you feel better, cast detection spells. They don’t pick up love potions, but they’ll pick up deadly poisons.”

Harry smiles. “Sometimes I wonder how anyone ever made the mistake of thinking you’re stupid.”

“Please,” Ron interrupts. “Save it.”

Harry’s smile turns toward Ron, which disappoints Greg. “Thanks,” Harry says.

Ron shrugs and grumbles, “I just said the thing that would scare all the girls away. You’re the only one who’d—never mind.”

Harry opens his mouth to defend Greg, and Greg squeezes his leg. “It’s fine. He’s right. I hear things. A few girls have talked about how I’m hot, but it’s always followed by something along the lines of, ‘if only he had a brain.’ I’m perfectly aware that no one else would want me. Fortunately for me, the only guy I want is the one guy who wants me back.”

Harry’s smile is, by Greg’s estimation, brighter than the sun.

* * *

The next morning, as they watch the sun come up over the lake, Harry in Greg’s lap, leaning up against his chest, Harry asks, “We snog a lot and spend all our time together.”

“Yes…” Greg still isn’t completely used to this Gryffindor tendency to start a conversation by stating the obvious. Hermione is the only one who never does it, and half the time, she begins a conversation in a way that no one else can follow.

“Does that mean we’re together? Boyfriends?”

Greg thinks a moment then says, “Not explicitly. But I’d like it to mean that. If that’s what you want.”

Harry turns in Greg’s lap to kiss him. It’s the first time Greg has had someone to share Valentine’s Day with. If things go the way he’d like, he’ll be able to share a lot more Valentine’s Days with Harry.

* * *

May second sneaks up on everyone. Without warning, it’s the anniversary of the Battle. There are journalists and ministry workers all over the grounds. McGonagall is furious about the disruption of the school.

Not that it matters. There are too many students complaining of being sick from headaches and nightmares for the school to go on effectively, especially since several of the professors are equally affected.

It lasts a few days before blowing over. The next week or so is somber, until the rhythm of the school picks up again and people are once again able to live with their pain.

* * *

Before Greg knows what’s happened, their NEWTs are upon them. They’re stressful, more stressful than Greg ever would have guessed, but he gets through them okay.

When they’re over, however, Greg is faced with an even more agonizing prospect. School is over. And that quite likely means he and Harry are over. Harry has so many other witches and wizards vying for his attention. He’s sure to find someone else, and won’t want to tie himself to Greg, now that they aren’t at Hogwarts on a near-constant basis.

But Greg ignores it, intent on holding onto Harry for as long as the other man will have him.

It’s only two days after their NEWTs conclude that Harry brings it up. They’re watching the sunset when he says, “What are we going to do after school ends? I know you want to be an Arithmancer, but I mean, what are we going to do about us.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Greg lies. If Harry is breaking up with him, he isn’t going to be helpful.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Harry says. Fuck. “And I know we’ve only been together a few months, but the most practical thing would be for us to move in together.”

“What?”

Harry pulls away from where he’s leaning against Greg’s arm. “I want to move in together. Is that okay?”

Greg nods. “Just surprised. I have thought about it,” he confesses. “I’ve just been terrified you were going to break up with me.”

Harry’s eyes sparkle in the dying light. “Never. Is that a yes?”

“What else would it be?”

Harry pushes Greg onto his back and kisses him. Hands begin traveling, as they have been a lot lately, but there’s something more this time. Harry pulls his robe off, leaving him rumpled and his hair looking as though he’s just been shagged. Of course, if this is going where Greg thinks it is, that’s actually Harry’s about-to-be-shagged look.

Harry presses more frantic, wet kisses to Greg’s mouth, panting, “Too many clothes.”

Greg agrees whole-heartedly, sitting up so that he can strip off his robe as well. They pull their the rest of their clothes off and soon Greg is sitting there, bare arse in the grass. Harry is in his lap, naked and rubbing his cock against Greg’s. Greg is thankful they’ve started casting Notice-Me-Nots when they first arrive. At this point, he doesn’t think he’d be able to perform it, and he really doesn’t want anyone seeing them.

After several more minutes of snogging and grinding, Harry pulls back and whispers, “I want to ride you. Is that okay?”

Greg can’t find words; Harry already turned his brain to mush with the kissing and his words just finished the job. So he grunts his approval. Harry smiles then, looking suddenly shy, adds, “I’ve never done this before. With anyone.”

That requires an articulate answer. Fortunately, Greg finds the right words. “Me neither.”

Harry looks relieved at that. Greg isn’t completely sure why, but Harry’s digging his wand out and spelling his fingers full of lube, so he decides it doesn’t really matter. He watches mesmerized as Harry fingers himself, stretching himself so that his body can his take Greg’s cock. Greg is worried that, even with all the preparation Harry is doing, Greg will hurt him. Greg is a big guy, and his cock is more than proportional. Can his cock even _fit_? In most of his fantasies, they don’t actually _do_ this. He’s too afraid of hurting Harry. The rare fantasy they do actually fuck, Harry is on top.

Greg feels Harry rub lubricant down his entire length, coating it liberally. Then Harry raises up on his knees, seizes Greg’s cock, positions it at that tiny hole, and sinks down.

The tightness of it is unbearable, and Greg is sure he blacks out for a moment. He digs his fingers into the soil beneath him in an effort to keep from thrusting up into Harry. Harry sinks down Greg’s cock until he’s taken the entire thing in. His face is twisted in something between pleasure and pain, but Greg guesses it can’t hurt too much, since Harry’s cock is still fully erect.

Greg reaches up to stroke Harry’s cheek, leaving a streak of dirt on Harry’s face. Harry’s eyes flutter open and he pants, “Oh, Merlin. I knew you were big, but you feel even bigger like this.”

“Do you want to stop?” Greg asks. It might kill him, but he really doesn’t want to hurt Harry.

“No,” Harry says, leaning forward to kiss Greg. “Feels good. It’s just…” Harry shifts and groans. “Oh Merlin. There. Feels good.”

And Harry begins moving, balancing himself on Greg’s chest. Greg grabs Harry’s hips, not to control Harry, but to anchor himself. This feels too good to be real.

“Come on, Greg,” Harry says, “Don’t make me do all the work. _Move_.”

Greg is relieved. He doesn’t know how much longer he could have kept himself from bucking up into Harry’s body. Lying on his back he couldn’t get the best leverage, but the way Harry was slamming down more than made up for it.

“Oh Merlin, Harry,” Greg gasps as he comes. He wishes he could have lasted longer, but it all feels too good, too intense.

Harry doesn’t seem to mind, releasing a quiet whimper as he comes all over Greg’s stomach and chest. After a moment of panting, Harry drags himself off Greg’s cock with a visible wince and lays down next to him. Greg kisses him. “You okay?”

Harry yawns. “Yeah. Just tired. Let’s take a nap before we head back.”

“Good idea.”

* * *

They don’t wake up until the squid splashes them early the next morning. The sun is already on its way up, meaning they’ve been missing for a while.

Harry groans as he sits up. “Oh. Sore.”

Greg grins at the memory of why. But as appealing as the idea of Harry being sore because of Greg’s cock, a reminder of what they did, Greg offers, “I know some spells. You know, to help with sore muscles.” He learned them when he intensified his workouts their sixth year. He’s never used them on the muscles of someone’s arsehole though.

Harry shakes his head. “No. It’s… I don’t know. I like that I can still feel you. Feel what we did together.”

Greg gives him a short kiss. “Good. I like it too.” After a pause, he adds, “Maybe next time, it can be me who has that.”

Harry looks surprised. “You want to…”

“I want to try everything with you.”

Harry stares at him for a long time then kisses him, hard. “I love you, Greg, you know that, right?” Harry asks when the kiss finally ends.

Greg is flummoxed. Why in the seven hells would someone as gorgeous as Harry love _him_? But he isn’t stupid. He’s not going to ask and make Harry think about it. “Good,” he says. “Because I’ve been in love with you for a long time now.”

* * *

After another half-hour of snogging, they sneak back into the castle, laughing when they barely avoid Mrs. Norris. They go to the kitchen and grab a quick breakfast before heading back to the eighth year dorms. They get inside without a problem, grabbing a quick kiss before going to their separate rooms.

Greg turns around to face the door, so he can close it as quietly as possible—

“Well, well, well, look who’s back,” Blaise drawls, making Greg jump. “Well done, Greg, well done. It’s heartening to know that even someone like you can get some once in a while.”

It takes all of Greg’s self-control not to snap at Blaise. He really wants to. He wants to tell Blaise that not only did he _get some_ , he has a boyfriend. That his boyfriend asked Greg to move in with him. That his boyfriend is Harry Potter, _Witch Weekly’s_ most eligible bachelor for the last year. But he doesn’t. That would be betraying Harry’s trust.

On the other hand, there is no reason he can’t show his _own_ hand, and show them all how smart he is. “I got an O on my Arithmancy OWL,” he snaps. “So stop treating me as though I’m stupid. I’ve dealt with it for close to fifteen years, and now I’m done with it.”

Blaise and Theo looks taken aback; Draco looks impressed, further proving that he _had_ figured out Greg wasn’t just a lump of muscle.

Theo regains his composure much quicker than Blaise. “So who is she, then?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Greg mutters, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“This is all assuming it’s a girl,” Draco says with a smirk. Greg glares at him.

Of course, Draco’s words distract Blaise and Theo, as they begin arguing with Draco that there is no way a guy like Greg could be gay. And once again Greg is ignored, and he can slip away to the showers. He does catch Draco’s eyes, and the blonde mouths, ‘You owe me.’

Greg snorts. Of course he does.

* * *

At dinner, Hermione worriedly asks Harry, “Are you okay? You’ve been shifting around all day, like you can’t get comfortable.”

“I’m fine,” Harry answers. From where he’s sitting, Greg can see Harry’s ears turn a bit red.

“She’s right, mate,” Ron says. “It’s like you’ve got a stick up your—” Suddenly Ron turns a bit green and says, “You know what, I’m sure you’re fine. We don’t need to know every little detail about your body.”

Hermione opens her mouth, but Ron elbows her. “Ron!”

“Leave him alone, Hermione,” Ron orders under his breath. “Harry doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Hermione’s mouth snaps shut and her face turns red. Her eyes flicker between Harry’s face and Greg’s, and Greg can feel the back of his neck heating up. “Oh,” she eventually says, “Of course your right. Not everything is my business.”

Luna sits down next to them and says, “Are we talking about what happened by the tree last night?”

Harry gapes. “Were you _watching_?” he hisses.

“Of course not,” Luna says. She waves her wand and a _Muffliato_ settles around the group. “You’ve just had a I-was-completely-and-thoroughly-fucked look on your face all day long. And where else would the two of you consummate your relationship, other than by that tree?”

Harry buries his face in his hands. Greg pats his shoulder, since a _Muffliato_ doesn’t prevent people from seeing them.

* * *

“So I’ve been thinking,” Ron says to Harry, “Why don’t we move in together? Get a flat in London, sign up for Auror training once we get our NEWTs back.”

Harry’s eyes go wide, and he shifts closer to Greg. Greg is fairly certain the movement is subconscious. “Er, Ron, about that.” He glances around and then casts _Muffliato_ and Notice-Me-Not. “I sort of already… well, I don’t want to be an Auror. I’ve had enough fighting to last two lifetimes. I applied to Mediwizard training at Mungo’s. They sent a letter back saying I would be welcome in the program, provided I got the necessary NEWTs.”

“Oh.” Ron looks momentarily disappointed before saying, “Well, that’s okay. Mungo’s is in London. We’d just be going different places. It’d probably be good even, not to spend every minute of every day together.”

Greg is momentarily afraid that Harry is going to change his mind about moving in together. But then his boyfriend says, “Ron, I can’t.”

The redhead’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“I’m moving in with Greg.”

Ron gapes. “You—what?”

“Greg and I are moving in together,” Harry repeats. “I’m sorry. I know what you thought… but we never really talked about it. And moving in with Greg…” Harry shoots a small smile in Greg’s direction. “That’s what’ll make me happy.”

Ron stands up, face reddening. “You’re putting him before me? Some best mate you are!”

“Don’t you _dare_ accuse me of being a terrible friend,” Harry retorts, standing up as well. “Who left whom last year, hm? It wasn’t me and it wasn’t Hermione.”

Ron’s face pales and he says, “You promised not to hold that against me.”

Harry sighs. “I don’t. I’m just making a point, Ron. We’re neither of us perfect friends. But moving in with Greg is what will make me happy. Don’t I deserve that?”

Ron flops back on his seat. “Yeah. You do.”

And that’s all that’s said on the matter.

* * *

Harry and Greg begin using the Room of Requirement at night. It’s hard the first couple times. They’re both terrified that when they open the door, it’ll reveal vicious flames. It never does. It always opens to a small, warm bedroom, decorated in blues and greys.

They always head back to their dorms after, but it’s nice to have time alone, where they don’t have to worry people will catch them.

* * *

One day, the day before it’s time to leave school, they fall asleep again.

This time it’s Harry who has to deal with the fallout. “Harry,” Lavender teases. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Er, what?”

“You have a love bite,” the Gryffindor girl taunts, pointing at Harry’s neck.

Sure enough, there’s a dark purple bruise near Harry’s collarbone. Greg doesn’t even remember giving it to him.

“Er,” Harry stutters, eyes flickering momentarily to Greg, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh, you’re so romantic,” Lavender sighs. Then she perks up. “But really. Who is it? Any girl would be _proud_ to have you as a boyfriend. Is it Ginny? No, she’s with Neville.” Lavender chatters on, guessing and discarding those guesses almost faster than Greg can process them. Eventually, she asks, “Is it serious or just a fling?”

Harry pauses, glances at Greg, then says, “It’s pretty serious.”

“Then why can’t you just tell us?”

“Because it’s my _private_ life,” Harry tells her. “We don’t want anyone else butting into our business, which is what’ll happen if anyone learns we’re together.”

Before Lavender can press any further, Harry turns and walks away.


	10. After Hogwarts

The train ride is a bit melancholy. Of the eight of them squashed into the compartment, Ginny and Luna were the only ones coming back the next year. It’s the end of one part of their lives, and they are moving on to the next. The atmosphere isn’t improved by the fact that only one of the graduates has parents to go home to. Greg’s and Draco’s are in Azkaban, Harry’s are dead, Neville’s are in St. Mungo’s, and Hermione was never able to restore her parents’ memories. They’re all more or less on their own.

Hermione is going back to the Burrow with Ron, and Greg is going with Harry to Grimmauld Place. It’s a start, but it’s not what Greg would call a happy one.

* * *

They arrive at the house, and Greg immediately understands why Harry says he wants to get a flat. Number 12 is quite possibly the most depressing building Greg has ever been in. The only one that could compete would be Draco’s manor when they were playing host to the Dark Lord.

They share a bed every night and fuck like rabbits. It’s brilliant, and Greg thinks this whole moving in idea is the best idea Harry has ever had. He tells Harry so.

Harry laughs. “I was thinking the same thing.” He cuddles up against Greg’s chest. “I like being able to sleep with you and not worry about people catching us.” After a minute, he asks, “Greg?”

“Yeah?” Greg yawns.

“You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”

Greg is suddenly concerned. “Of course I know that.”

Harry breathes a sigh against Greg’s chest. “Oh, good. Because I’ll come out for you, if you want. I’ll tell the whole world you’re my boyfriend, so long as you know I’m not ashamed of you.”

Greg can’t express how much that means to him. So he just tells the truth, “I know. I also know how everyone would react to _me_. The backlash wouldn’t be pleasant for either of us, because of who we are.” After a pause, he adds, “Unless _you_ want to tell everyone. I’m happy keeping it just between the two of us. Our closest friends know. They’re the only ones who are important.”

Harry kisses Greg’s shoulder. “As long as you know it’s because I like my privacy, not because I’m embarrassed to be with you. Because I know you feel like I’m too good for you, even though that’s completely ridiculous.”

Greg smiles. It’s things like this that made him fall in love with Harry.

* * *

They find a flat and move in together. Only a week later, while they’re still busy furnishing the place, they receive their NEWT results.

They sit down and open them together. Greg is relieved to see his scores. He got Os in Arithmancy and Herbology, and passed everything else. “Well?” he asks Harry.

Harry grins brilliantly at him. “I got the scores I need.”

Greg smiles. “Let’s celebrate.”

* * *

They’re having sex the first time it happens. Harry lets loose a string of profanities, all with more sibilants than they should really possess. Greg immediately knows that Harry’s speaking Parseltongue.

He answers the same way, and Harry’s eyes go wide, and he fucks himself even harder on Greg’s cock.

Lying together, panting afterward, Harry hisses, “ _You’re a Parselmouth_?”

“ _Yes_.”

“ _After Voldemort, it never occurred to me that Parseltongue could be erotic. But from you_ …” Harry buries his face in Greg’s shoulder. “ _Fuck, Greg, it’s hot_.”

Greg chuckles and kisses Harry’s hair.

* * *

Life settles in to a wonderful pattern. They live together, go out on dates, have sex, and start their careers. Harry is welcomed into the Mediwizard program at St. Mungo’s, and Greg manages to get a position as the apprentice of one of the best Arithmancers in the country. The money isn’t good from either position, but they don’t have problems. They’re both the heads of wealthy families and have more money than they could use in a lifetime.

As far as Greg is concerned, life is perfect. Ron and Hermione get married and almost immediately get pregnant. Draco gets married, although he seems in no hurry to have children. Miraculously, Draco has learned to get along with Harry, to the point where Greg is fairly sure Harry counts Draco as a friend. Luna is as eccentric as ever, although Greg is never sure where she gets the money needed to take her trips in search of mythical creatures.

There’s only one thing, but it can wait.

* * *

It drives Greg crazy. Any time they go out, girls flirt with Harry. He ignores them, brushes them off gently, but it’s still frustrating. Greg is right there. Every once in a while, Greg is tempted to tell Harry he wants them to come out.

Then Harry gets the letter from the Ministry.

Harry sighs at the parchment in his hands. “What?” Greg asks.

“They’re having a memorial for the final battle at Hogwarts, now that it’s been five years. They ‘eagerly anticipate my presence.’ They didn’t mention you by name. I think they’re all in denial. They want to believe we’re just roommates, so that’s all we are.”

“We both know people see what they want to see,” Greg replies softly.

“Part of me likes that this part of my life is still private.”

“And the other part?” Greg asks.

“Hates the girls who fawn over you because they don’t know you’re _mine_.”

Greg laughs. He loves it when Harry gets just that little bit possessive. Because even after more than four years, Harry doesn’t see that Greg is the lucky one. That Greg is the one dating a man out of his league. “I completely understand.” And he does. Especially since most of the girls who fawn over him are Slytherins, and probably only using him because of his connection to the Boy Who Lived.

“So, if they didn’t mention me by name, what did they say?”

“Please RSVP with the name of your plus one.” Harry snorts. “As though my going is a foregone conclusion.”

Greg knows Harry. “Isn’t it?” he asks softly. “You’ll want to honor the dead, even if you couldn’t care less about the Ministry’s theatrics.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Nothing they say can make me give a speech.”

“Perfectly okay.”

Harry tosses the letter on the kitchen table then comes and sits on Greg’s lap. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Do it?”

“Go back. Our eighth year, it was all too fresh. So fresh that I was just numb. And I was in shock from the idea that I was still alive. Now it’s all… healing, and I’m afraid going back will rip open the wounds,” Harry confesses.

“Isn’t facing your demons part of the healing process?”

“Yes. But still. I can’t have that breakdown in front of everyone. I can’t.”

Greg pauses then asks, “Firecall the headmistress. Ask if there’s a day we can visit, just the two of us. Then if you do have a breakdown, there won’t be any reporters there to see it. Some students might see it, but there won’t be any proof.”

Harry smiles. “This is why I love you.” He kisses Greg’s cheek. “Now I have to get to work. Patients don’t cure themselves, you know.”

“I know,” Greg replies. “I’ll call McGonagall.”

Harry pecks his lips again and Floos away to St. Mungo’s.

Now Greg just has to plan everything. This stupid Ministry thing has at least given him a perfect excuse to get Harry back to Hogwarts. Back to their tree.

* * *

“Mr. Goyle,” McGonagall says. “Please come through.”

Greg does, brushing his robes off. He shakes her hand. “Headmistress. You look well.”

“Very,” she replies. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You know Harry and I moved in together after graduation?” Greg asks.

“Yes,” McGonagall replies. “It rather surprised me, I confess, even though I’d noticed you’d become good friends. Tea?”

“Please,” Greg says, easily accepting the cup as he sits down across from McGonagall. “Well, Harry and I aren’t _just_ friends. We’ve been a couple since February of our eighth year. And I’m going to ask him to marry me.”

McGonagall actually does a spit-take. She quickly pats her lips with a napkin. “My apologies. I simply… Congratulations, Mr. Goyle. I never…”

“Yes. Well, there’s a tree by the lake. It’s where our friendship started, it’s where our relationship started, where our first kiss happened.” As well as a lot of other firsts, but he’s hardly going to tell McGonagall about _those_. “I want to propose to him under that tree. But we’ll need a day we can come to the school.”

McGonagall nods. “How about the next Hogsmeade weekend? Most of the students will be in town.”

“Sounds perfect. When is it?”

“Saturday after next. Is there anything in particular you would like me to have arranged?”

“There was a house elf, Winky.”

“Winky!” McGonagall summons her immediately.

“Headmistress called?” the elf asks.

McGonagall gestures to Greg and Winky turns. “Master Gregory!” she squeaks in excitement. “You is come back! Where is Master Harry?” Suddenly her eyes go even wider than is normal and she glances fearfully at McGonagall.

“It’s okay, she knows,” Greg says with a laugh. “You remember how you would bring me and Harry picnics by that certain tree?”

“Of course Winky remembers!”

“Well, Saturday after next, could you bring another one down?” Greg asks. “Make it extra special.”

Winky squeals in excitement. “Master Gregory is going to be proposing! Winky wins the bet!”

“Bet?” Greg asks.

She shuffles her feet in embarrassment. “Winky and some other elves is having a bet, you see. If Master Gregory or Master Harry would be the one to propose and when. The winner is not having to clean toilets for a month!”

Greg sits with his mouth open for several seconds before McGonagall begins laughing.

* * *

“Let’s go to our tree first,” Greg suggests, his fingers laced through Harry’s. “Start there and work our way to other places.”

Harry nods, his brow furrowed deeply.

They make their way around the lake, to where Winky has set out a beautiful picnic, complete with champagne.

Harry smiles and kisses Greg’s cheek. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Greg replies. If Harry thinks he’s perfect, it significantly increases the chances that his boyfriend will say yes.

They sit against the tree, cuddled together, looking out across the lake. They throw stones into the water and watch the ripples, laugh when the Giant Squid comes up to grab the bits of bread they toss in. It’s all exactly like it used to be. Except for one thing.

Greg pulls the ring out of his pocket and slips it into Harry’s hand. He’s thought of a million different things he could say, but the fact is, he’s never been a man of many words. He’d just fuck it up. So he’s just going to let the ring do all the talking.

It takes Harry several seconds to realize there’s something in his hand. Greg can tell his first thought is that it’s a rock to toss; his wrist makes the motion it always does just before he tosses a rock into the lake. Thankfully he stops. He stares at the silver ring for what must be hours before looking at Greg.

“Yes.” He closes his eyes and presses his lips together. Greg can tell he’s close to tears. “Have I told you today that I love you? And that you’re perfect?”

Greg kisses him. Because ‘I love you’ doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels about Harry James Potter.


End file.
